


Idiots

by Irena31



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 23:38:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7661635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irena31/pseuds/Irena31
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in Half Blood Prince. Snape is still the Potions Master, with the same annoying students as before. If only Draco would listen to him...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Idiots

“Professor, is it okay if the potion isn’t exactly light blue? What would happen if it was dark?”

He had scoffed, his tunnelled eyes narrowing. He had to quellthe urge to snap at the boy. 

He despised such garrulousquestions, preferring his students to actually read their textbooks and leave him alone. Students had lamented about his harsh nature, but Gryffindors were still annoyingly persistent. A glance at Longbottom’s cauldron told him that that frothing mess was useless. He strode over to the boy, his shadowy robes flaring slightly. 

“Longbottom, since when could a potion ever be merely ‘good enough’ to work? It must be an exact copy of the sample I provided you. Failure to complete this assignment will not only result in a zero, but you may very well be afflicted by whatever atrocity is in your cauldron.” 

The idiot boy’s potion was vibrating alarmingly . 

“Atrophy of your intestines, crumbling your tendons, and reducing your skin’s elasticity until your heart is as stoic as your brain, Longbottom,” he listed, peering into the boy’s cauldron with disdain. 

He left the boy’s station abruptly and addressed the class, his eyes flashing towards the red and gold uniforms. “The art of potion-making is difficult for the most practiced of minds. Those who fail to contemplate the intricaciesand subtle craft of the subject should not be attempting to take the class in the first place. Those who indulge in their own idiosyncrasies, who use their heart over their brain, will eventually find themselves bereft of either.”

The Weasley boy looked at him uncomprehending.

“Death, Weasley. Five points from Gryffindor for not being able to understand simple rhetoric. I also to advise you to put away you wand. Wandloreis not required for my class and I do not wish to see your foolish spell incantations.”

Weasley flushed and stuffed his wand in his threadbare school bag, muttering “Bloody professor doesn’t appreciate anything.”

Snape arched an eyebrow. “Perhaps, Weasley, you misunderstand me yet again. If I see proper work, I shall acknowledge it.”

Weasley was undeterred. “Hermione always gets her potions correct! And yet you choose to fawn over the Slytherins instead.”

He sneered. “Miss Granger should learn a lesson in humility. She does not understand that she fails to know everything, and as such, should refrainfrom displaying her narcissistic know-it-all tendencies.” With that, he left their pathetic table and strode to his desk. His eyes caught Draco, sullenly grinding beetle eyes at his station. Snape abruptly turned and leaned over to Draco. 

“Leave me alone!” the boy said vehemently, hissing through his teeth as he narrowly avoided cutting his own hand instead of the pods. Snape ignored his outburst. He needed to talk to the boy in a place where he couldn’t escape. 

“Draco, you do not comprehend the gravitas of the matter. You should not have to atonefor your father’s-”

“Well, he’s not bloody well here, is he?” Draco hissed. “He’s been carted off to Azkaban, thanks to Potter,” glaring back at the raven-haired boy. Snape had a fleetingmoment of familiarity. He uncomfortably remembered another young teenager, whose troubles had all originated thanks to Potter. He suppressed the memory. Dumbledore had warned him not to treat Potter differently. But it was difficult, viewing his spawn in his class every week and not seeing James Potter and his sidekicks. Granted, Weasley was not as self-assured as Black, but the orange orangutan still possessed the gaping carelessness that had always annoyed Snape. His knuckles tightened as he remembered Black taunting him to go to the Shrieking Shack, promising that he would be sorry if he went to see Lupin…

Draco was looking at him strangely. Snape realized that he hadn’t said anything after the blonde’s accusations. He opened his mouth to warn Draco of his plan, but was interrupted by the grating noise of Gryffindor girls’ squeals. He rolled his eyes, knowing that the idiot Longbottom’s potion had most likely exploded. His students hurriedly escaped his room as he rushed towards the explosion. Longbottom’s eyes had widened, no doubt considering the side effects. Snape smirked; if the boy had actually read the textbook, he would know this was a fairly harmless potion. 

Unfortunately, in the descending melee, Draco had escaped. Snape sighed. What would he tell Narcissa? Her son was eager to do this alone. The boy couldn’t. Snape could see that clearly. His previous affluenceand certainty had all but vanished. If he continued to be evasive and aloof, what would result? A teenage boy could not accomplish what the Dark Lord demanded. Snape looked around his classroom and cursed.

“Idiot Longbottom.”  


End file.
